The Book
By Peter Rehard
The Book
Peter Rehard
Copyright Peter Rehard 2011
Smashwords edition
Dedicated to the reader
Chapter One
Spoons is a city in the middle of the United States of
America. If you do not know where the United States of America is
find a map and look to the left (you will smell something like
cooking oil and potatoes). If you want to know where Spoons is, I
would ask why. I heard once that a man wanted to start a city in the
middle of nowhere. He drew two lines: one from the exact middle
horizontally, and one in the exact middle vertically of that country.
He built a town where they met.
Spoons is a place where no one ever heard of killing two birds with one stone. No one ever saw two birds together. There no one ever saw people together for that matter. There were ten buildings in that city: a school, doctor’s office, diner, a hardware store, theater, grocery store, along with four houses that I can't name now. A person could walk through the town in three minutes; yet I never heard of anyone living there.
If you flew over the town in a plane, you probably would not see it. If you were in a bus or car, or on a train, well, you never would go that way. I do not even think that there are roads leading to Spoons. Also, did I mention there are no rivers, so forget taking a boat or a submarine. It is a hidden place.
You might be a clever person and already have a map of the mid-western United States out. Put it down, Spoons is not on it. This United States of America does not put something on its maps if no one cares about it. It’s true, I know because once, a long time ago, I lived in a city that had many factories. One day all the owners moved their factories to other countries. The people in my town lost their jobs, and had to leave. One day that town disappeared from the maps or maybe it just disappeared from other peoples’ minds. Anyway, Spoons is not a place you can find even if you were looking or lost.
Worst of all, it is a hard place to live in because they do not have the things other cities do. What things? Well, they have dirt, and wind, and water. Spoons has those, and, I think they have food (but I am not sure). I know that the town does not have radios or music. It does not have television or movies (strange considering they have a theater; but stranger that they have no one to operate it). Like I said, they do have wind, food, dirt, water, and air! I can’t forget that. Of course clothes and toilets, but, what I meant was that they do not have those things that societies use to create themselves. It doesn't have people and that is the main part of a city, right? Why get into that though, we all would have to think about it.
You might be thinking: why would any story begin or end in a place like that? You would be right. You might say: what could possibly ever happen there? I would not think anything. Someone must be saying: does the city even have characters to have a story with? I’m not sure. You all could create a million questions and each one would probably be answered as suspected; yet, I have heard many stories lately that I thought the same of.
In fact every story that has come to me recently was not very likely; so what is the difference. You all have heard the others, why not this one? If you are the type of person that only bothers with good (I do not mean things that are entertaining, but real good), If you are that kind, do not continue on. I am warning you in advance this is not a good story.
Yes, I am asking much of you, but no more than any other story does. I can, like the others promise that you will not hear about right and wrong here (so do not worry, you will not have to question yourselves). Neither will you have to consider complex thoughts and ideas (to be honest they are more trouble than any benefit they can cause). If I can remember correctly this story does not have a point either (those old stories with themes are such aggravations to understand).
Also like the others, this one contains heartwarming relationships and adventure (who does not enjoy those?), not to mention numerous twists, turn, bends, dips and slides of impending death and danger. I suppose it could be worth hearing. I have worked myself up to hear it! I would think you all must feel the same way.
Oh, there is trouble... I do not know who can tell it. I thought maybe it was on television, but no luck. I know they did not make a movie of it yet. I think we are going to have to travel to Spoons, Nowhere and see it transpire.
Chapter Two
It
was a hot day and the sun followed Tim as he made his way to the dirt
mounds. In the center of Spoons are massive piles of sand and rock
left over from when the town was built. The sun sent down molten
beams and Tim looked at the sand and thought it was glass. He walked
slowly and sweat started to pearl on his face. It was a dry day and a
dead wind blew in the empty air from the west. The moisture on his
body was pulled off as the air passed.
Tim was dressed in a short sleeved, buttoned up shirt with slacks. His glasses were cracked in both lenses and the bridge was taped; the thin frames and ends hung loosely on his face. Tim’s features appeared to be too large for his head, but he still had time to grow into them. As far as teenagers go he was short, thin and lanky, but that is okay.
He came to the dirt piles and saw something he had never seen before: two people. A young man and girl were sitting on two different heaps, above him. Tim became nervous and started to turn around, but before moving the two noticed him.
A young man, one of the two on the dirt yelled out, “Hello! Hey, who are you?”
From the distance Tim answered, stuttering, “Tim.”
“I can’t hear you from over there. Come closer.”
Tim moved even slower now, uncomfortable: he did not do well with others because he did not talk to many others. He moved close enough to see their faces. The young man had black hair, greased straight back, a long nose and chin, dark eyes, and pale skin; some people might think he was handsome. He was tall, fit, dressed in black, and suave. The girl however caught Tim’s eye. She at first appeared to be beautiful. Her hair was styled like you see in magazines, or movies, and her face was made up with all kinds of powders and colors. She had big lips, big eyes, and a round, patchy white face. Many people would call her beautiful, but they might think different if they saw her as she really was. She had a rounded, but appealing body. Tim loved her at first sight.
The young man and girl were intimidating to approach, but Tim went forward none the less, drawn in by their voices and the curiosity of a people: something he had been foreign to. The young man said, “Hey, we haven’t seen you around here.”
Tim said, “No, I don’t go around much. I haven’t heard of other people living here.”
“That’s right,” said the young man, “it’s because they don’t.” The young man asked the girl without paying her any mind, “I have only been here what, a month?” The girl nodded and the young man continued, “When I got here, I met her first. How long have you been here?”
The girl smiled, “Um, three, I think.”
“I have been here quite a while,” Tim said.
“Then how come we haven’t seen you?” asked the young man.
“I told you, I don’t go places.”
The young man laughed and said, “Its okay, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. What's your name?”
“Tim.”
“Tim?” the man asked, “that’s a pretty ordinary name isn’t it?”
Tim wiped his face and whispered, “I don’t know. What do you mean?”
“What,” the man asked, “speak up. I just would have thought your name would have been Lawrence or Striker. Something more interesting at least would have been appropriate.” The young man pushed his slick hair back even though it had not moved, and tilted his head so it caught the light. The girl watched him and covered her infatuation.
“It’s my name. What can I do about it?” Tim straightened his glasses and shuffled his feet. He stared at the young man and girl and was getting ready to turn away again when the young man declared, “My name is Ludus.”
Tim smiled and said, “Hi, Ludus.” He waved and turned his back but Ludus called out, “Hey, where are you going?”
“I don’t know, I was going to go and do some thinking,”
“Thinking,” questioned Ludus, “why would you think? Come and sit on one of these piles of dirt with us.”
“Well, I don’t know,” began Tim. “What are you planning to do?”
Ludus tilted his head back in the opposite direction of the girl, looked down from the high mound at Tim and said, “Sit.”
Tim was not sure if he should sit with them or not, but he did not have any reason not to. He stumbled towards one of the empty piles and awkwardly climbed up. With his thin arms and legs flapping in the wind he fell many times into the sand, but did manage to reach the top. With a sigh and breath he sat on the peak of the mound.
He could not help looking at the girl, absorbed in her normal features: he found her addicting. She did not move her head an inch towards him. She remained locked on Ludus: he looked off, handsomely to the ground. They sat on the piles for hours that way: Tim looking at the girl, the girl looking at Ludus, and Ludus at nothing. No one spoke a word, bathing in the hot sun and air. The wind dried them out. They saw nothing but the odd dust ball rolling by, bouncing in the empty wind. Spoons, with its graveyard of ten buildings remained a tombstone.
Tim broke the silence and asked, “How long are we supposed to sit here?”
“Do you have another idea?” Ludus asked. “If you do go ahead and say it. I’m just waiting for my dad to come back and pick me up.”
“You have a dad?” Tim whispered. “You’re lucky.”
“I know that! He is a great man,” Ludus bragged, tapping his chest.
Tim asked, “Where is he?”
“I told you,” Ludus barked, “I’m waiting for him. He is important. He can’t be around all the time talking to me and telling me where he is going, or what he is doing. My dad is a doctor.”
“Wow,” Tim said, “you must have a lot of nice things.”
“Of course I do, I have everything a person could ever want: money, clothes, cars, planes, helicopters, a bunch of houses.” Tim interrupted and said, “All that from being a doctor?”
“No! My dad is a lawyer too.”
The girl, impressed, covered her smile. Tim asked, “A doctor and lawyer?”
“Yeah, a doctor, lawyer, and professor, he also has a business that sells things for money.”
“Money! Wow,” Tim said. Ludus added, “Yeah, that’s right, but that’s not all. He is some kind of politician. He is a real professional.”
“You’re lucky, I never knew my parents.” Tim said covering his glasses. He did not want to cry in front of the girl, but it was hard to hide with his face covered in dirt. He wiped away the mud and said, “It’s tough to be all alone.”
Ludus shook his head saying, “Tim, I know. It is tough. Just because my dad is successful, doesn’t mean I’m not all by myself.”
The girl spoke up and said, “Yeah, uh, I don’t like being alone either.” Ludus looked at her and said, “Oh, I forgot about you. What is your name?”
The girl’s face lit up with his words, but once she realized he didn’t know her name it fell apart. She started to cry, “It doesn’t matter.”
Tim consoled, “Sure it does,”
“No it really doesn’t. Just forget it.”
Ludus looked at her and sighed, “Come on, tell us your name.”
The girl smiled like the sun awoke from a year of blackness and whined, “Clare.”
Ludus nodded and Tim said it out loud, “Clare.” She looked at him and said, “What did you say?” Startled, Tim bit his lip, “Me? Nothing, I didn’t say anything.” Clare went back to staring at Ludus; Tim put his head down. After a few dust balls went by, Ludus said, “Yep, it won’t be long now before I’m out of here. What about you Tim?”
“I don’t know,” Tim thought quietly. Ludus said, “Well, we are just sitting here, with nothing to do, nothing is happening. It might be the perfect time to tell your story.”
“I don’t know,” said Tim. “I don’t like talking about it.”
“Come on. I told you my dad had a bunch of jobs and is successful. You have to now, Just tell me.”
“No, I can’t,” Tim mumbled.
Ludus looked at Clare and said, “How about you then?”
“Me? You want to know about me?” she cried with joy.
“Well, Tim here isn’t going to say anything. I might as well listen to you. You or the wind. Yeah, why not, I want to hear about you.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel special,” she glowed
“Okay,” Ludus said. “Just tell it.”
Clare smiled at him and said, “Okay, Ludus, um, I used to enter a lot of beauty pageants.”
Ludus interrupted, “You, really?”
“Yeah,” said Clare, “My mom was really pretty and entered a bunch of contests when she was my age. When she was sixteen she won every single pageant she entered. That is how she found my dad. She didn't think I was very pretty. She used to say I would never find a husband unless I entered pageants and became beautiful. When I turned eight she began to put me into them. I never won though. I did come in fourth and fifth a bunch of times.”
“Wait, I thought they only had three places?” Ludus said.
“Sometimes everyone gets one.”
Ludus laughed, “Oh, I get it, keep going.”
“I tried really hard to be pretty,” she remembered, “but I never did win. My mother started to get fed up with me. I tried hard though. Look, I put on makeup and wear my hair like everyone else; I dress the way they do, but it never worked. One day, it was my sixteenth birthday, I woke up and found myself here. What is this place called?”
“It’s Spoons, Nowhere.” Tim stammered.
Ludus tossed a clump of dirt and said, “That’s tough. Are you going to stay here?”
Clare smiled at him, bit her fingers and asked, “What else can I do?” Ludus shook his head and tossed another clump. He threw one at her and laughed. She played, crying “Stop it!” but did not want him to. Ludus reeled back and threw another clump of dried dirt at Tim. It hit him square in the face, knocking him backward. “Sorry!” Ludus yelled carelessly. “I’m sorry I didn't mean to hit you.”
Tim dusted his face off and sat back up, saying, “It’s okay.” He hid his feelings
“Why don’t you tell me your story Tim?” Ludus asked again.
“I don’t feel comfortable.”
“Come on Tim, we went through this, just tell it.”
Tim relented, “It’s a sad, strange, and unbelievable story.”
“Tell it!” yelled Ludus.
“When I was just a baby,” he began, “the day I was born, my parents brought me home from the hospital. They had me in a round wicker basket, with a blue blanket and a soft hat and small socks. My mom carried me out of the car and they both walked to the door. My dad unlocked it and my mom set me down on the steps.
“It was late at night and the only light came from the moon. My mom and dad were so happy they kissed. My dad opened the door. They went in but something horrible happened. It was the worst thing in the world. A strange man with a long white beard was waiting for them. He had a large book in his hand and when my parents were in the hall, I heard the man read from his book…and he killed my mother and father. The next thing I remember I was here alone.”
“Tim, that is unbelievable,” yelled Ludus. “I can’t believe it! I have never heard of such a weird, unexplainable thing happening on earth.”
“I know,” Tim agreed, happy not to be denied. Clare never took her eyes off of Ludus. Tim wished she had been more affected by his story. Ludus said it was sad, but did not put too much thought in it. The three went back to sitting silently. Ludus broke the monotony by tossing dirt into the air as Clare watched holding her chest. Tim stared at his hands.
Ludus, Tim, and Clare were average teenagers, or young adults, at most. In reality they were strange, unreasonable, unexplainable and perhaps bellow average. They had no reason to be in Spoons, nor did they have a reason to be speaking or to be together; but they were. The three seemed to have nothing in common, but there was one thing: none of them had ever read a book.
They sat waiting for something to start or begin. Like mannequins laid out behind a stage, or puppets without a voice. The three were lifeless, without a pulse, or purpose, as statues or figurines waiting for a hand to move them. Ludus, Tim, and Clare sat, oblivious to the world.
In the distance, from the east emerged a spot. On the edge of sight it sat as a black dot. The three watched it grow as it came closer. It could have been a car, or a mirage; it might have been a shadow or twister. It appeared stark on the bleak and blank bending of vision. Tim, Ludus, and Clare watched as it changed from a speck, to a dot, to a circle, to a figure, and finally into a person.
They could not make out its face or any characteristic. The three teenagers sat as they had, but guessed at who it could have been. In their mind’s Ludus wished it was his father; Tim: some possibility and Clare, well, for Clare it could have been anything: a chance. The feeling of opportunity emerged in their stomachs, but it came with fear.
The shaded person broke the cusp of recognition into visibility. At once they saw him: A tall man, in a white robe, with a white beard that went to his chest. He held a cane, was thin and had a kind, simple face. The man had the appearance of those that are at some type of peace or contentment. In his right hand he carried a large, well read book. He walked in motions, like an object following a line. He did not sway, or stop, or slow, or speed up.
When he saw the three teenagers sitting on mounds of dirt in the sweltering Nowhere sun he smiled to his teeth. As he made it within voice range he yelled out, “Good afternoon, my young friends with possibility laid out in abundance. What brings you to the top of mounds of sand in the peak heat of day?”
None of the three knew how to answer. Clare looked down at her feet. Tim stared back and forth between his hands and the man. Ludus, suspicious of him, took charge first and said, “We are waiting.”
“For what?” the man with a white beard questioned.
“For anything.”
“You are simply going to wait and hope something will happen?”
“That’s the plan,” said Ludus sarcastically. “Got any other ideas?”
The man with a white beard shrugged, “To each his own, as some people say. I suppose I should be getting on my way.”
Ludus interrupted him and asked, “Wait! Did my dad send you?”
“Your father,” said the bearded man. “why on Earth would your father send me?”
“Never mind,” Ludus frowned, “no point in talking to you then.”
“Very well,” said the man with the white beard as he walked away. When he met the end of the mounds, Tim was able to see the book he held in his hand. Frightened, Tim cried, “Ludus, that man has a book!”
“A book,” questioned Ludus, “why would he?” The thought of a man wandering with a book interested Ludus a great deal. He called after the man, “Hey, man with the beard, why do you have a book?”
The old man turned and to teach Ludus a lesson on sarcasm said, “What do people use books for?” The bearded man smiled to himself and continued walking. Ludus stopped him with another question, yelling, “What kind of book is it?” The bearded man stopped one last time and said, “It is a good book,” before drifting into the distance behind the mounds.
Tim and Ludus rubbed their faces and chins pondering what it could have meant. Clare did not bother, but stared at Ludus, like a shooting star passing through the upper realms of earth. She smiled and flicked her hair and bit her fingers. “I wonder what that man was doing?” asked Tim.
“How am I supposed to know,” Ludus snapped. He thought better and added, “But he is up to something. People don’t just go around reading books, especially--what did he say: good books. Something tells me there is more to this than meets the eye. I think this might be the start of something bigger than we ever dreamed of.”
Clare woke up and repeated, “Dreamed of?”
“That’s right Karen. More than any of us ever dreamed of.”
The three looked off into the clouds pooling in the west. The sun weakened and so did their minds. “What we need to do,” proposed Ludus, “is figure out who that man is, why he had a book, and what he wants. Then we'll know where to go from here. It could be nothing, or it could be the most important thing that has ever happened.”
Tim and Clare agreed with him and thought themselves. Nothing formed in Clare’s mind. Tim had an idea and said, “One time I saw this picture. It was of a spy they captured. In the picture the man had his hand on a book. Do you think that the bearded man could be a spy?”
“It's a good chance,” said Ludus, “spies love books. That’s where they keep their secrets so no one finds them. But you know what? My dad is (like I said) a doctor and a lawyer, he has a bunch of books from what I remember. This man could be a doctor or a lawyer. How could I forget! Once my Dad took me to some party for a man getting elected as chief or something of a state, on that day the man had a book too. I think we have it narrowed down. This bearded man must be either: a doctor, spy, lawyer, or president.”
Tim agreed right off with him. Clare asked “Do you think, maybe, he is like a teacher or something.” Ludus said blankly, “No, That can’t be it. Wouldn’t he be in a school? Use your head.” Clare agreed and said she was dumb.
“I think he is either: a doctor, lawyer, spy, president, or maybe a killer.”
“A killer,” questioned Tim.
“Tim, I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. Remember the story you told us about a man killing your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, What did that man have?”
“A book!” yelled Tim.
“A book is right,” Ludus said shooting his finger like a gun. “This man has a book, and a white beard, with a robe, and cane. It can only mean one thing in the whole world.”
“A murdering wizard,” Tim moaned lowly, growing his fear.
“That’s right,” said Ludus covering his brow, lamenting.
Clare began to get a little nervous and mumbled something that no one heard. Ludus asked her what; she looked away, straightening her hair. Tim took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ludus.
“I don’t know,” said Tim, “all of a sudden my eyes are hurting.”
“Boy, it’s already happened.”
“What’s happened?” Tim cried, holding his head.
“Wizards cast spells, Tim. He must have already cast one on all of us. I’m not an expert on wizards and witches so I don’t know how it works, but it probably was a death spell like the one on your parents.” Clare paid no attention, lost in her attraction of Ludus. Tim started to cry, “What can we do?”
“There is only one thing to do, if we want to live. We have to track down the white bearded wizard, take his book, or have him remove the spell.”
“What would the book do?” asked Clare.
“Get it together,” cursed Ludus. “The book has all the wizard's secrets in it. We can use it to break the spell. Or we can threaten him to take it off himself. I think this is all obvious.”
“How are we supposed to do that, get him or the book?” Tim asked unsure, showing his nerves. The three let their thoughts take control as the sun passed into the west behind Nowhere's clouds. The wind shifted with the coming of a storm; it pushed their hair askew. Ludus made many attempts to keep his black hair slicked back. Tim had his head down and was desperately trying to figure out what must be done.
Ludus broke in and said, “Tim, I think that you’re a connected to this whole problem. You are going to be the only one to figure out what must be done. That wizard is trying to finish to job from when your parents were killed. It has to be you.”
“Why me?” he stuttered, as the wind nearly blew him off his mound. The area was working into a storm; dust was thrown up into the air, putting the scene in a dark gray. “Because of your parents,” Ludus said. “The bearded man probably has something to do with their death. I don’t what his plan is, but we need to figure it out. You have to be the one and if I was you, I would want a little revenge.”
“Me?”
“Yes, it has to be you. Now what do you think?”
Tim scratched his head and tried to speak. He failed with a few attempts and finally forced out, “Um, maybe, I don--I think you are right, the man is a wizard, I think he has come back to kill me and all of you, or at least hurt us. You’re right Ludus, we have to track him down to save our lives and I need to get revenge for my parents' deaths.”
“Yeah, we know that Tim, but how? He is gone, how can we find him?”
The three teenagers stood up on their mounds and surveyed Spoons. The bearded man was not at the theater, grocery store, or school. The empty homes stayed empty. The bearded man was no where in sight.
“Um…The book!” thought Tim.
Ludus realized it and said, “The book is the answer, but how?”
Tim began, “The bearded man had a book. They are rare to come by, not only a book, but a good one. I think there is a better chance of finding the bearded man where a good book would be; if not him, there maybe a clue of where he could be.”
“You did it! Good idea, Tim,” clapped Ludus. “We will go and find a place where a good book could be and search for the bearded man.”
Clare rubbed the back of her head and said, “Didn't he walk that way, why don't we just go and look for him over there?”
“Probably the dumbest thing I ever heard, Clare,” said Ludus. “Do you think he is just waiting over there, waiting for us to come? He is long gone now.”
“Well,” reasoned Clare, “if he wanted to kill us, why wouldn't he just do it.”
“You don't know how wizards work, darling,” condescended Ludus. “Why don't you leave the thinking to me and Tim. He is long gone now, or has set a trap. If we go after him, we would be walking right into it. I bet there is a vampire or werewolf over there just waiting to chomp into us.”
Clare gave up and asked where they could find a good book or go to search for the bearded man. Ludus smiled, “I know where we can start.”
Tim and Clare listened curiously as Ludus retold, “I once heard that books are printed in New York City, It would be the best place to look.”
“Great idea,” said Clare.
Ludus looked at Clare for the first time and in that moment he saw something special and beautiful in the average and normal girl. Ludus smiled at her; she twirled her hair, making eyes at him. Ludus felt that she had a special quality that somehow no one else could have. Her boring smell, her normal eyes, dull teeth, average frame, all became original and one of a kind for him. He looked at her and then into her eyes and said, “Clare, I think I’m falling in love with you.” Clare waved to him from her mound and Ludus touched her with his eyes.
As the two fell in love, starting an attraction that was mingled with passion and implausibility, a thought donned on Tim. He said, “Guys, how are we going to get to New York.”
“That’s not a problem,” said Ludus, “We’ll take my dad’s jet.”
Ludus pointed to the northern area of Spoons where a massive private jet sat on a runway. The turbines had started, sending a fog of dust shooting behind. The three slid down their mounds and ran towards the jet. The plane gleamed silver in the setting sun. “That works out,” said Tim, It was a beacon for the group. Tim, Clare, and Ludus reached the plane, and jumped into the air throwing up their arms and kicking one leg to the side. Ludus said, “Whatever happens next, Tim, it is all because of you.”
Chapter Three
Tim
leaned back in the leather seat on the left side of Ludus’ father’s
private jet. Ludus and Clare sat next to each other on the right,
holding each others hands. Clare had fallen asleep and rested her
head on Ludus’ shoulder, looking soft as a pillow, with a bead of
drool slipping from her lips. The last bits of sun were reflected off
of her face. Tim could not hold back how he felt.
He thought she was more than average: wonderful, heavenly; however did not have the confidence, like so many others, to speak his heart. The words of Ludus weighed heavy on him. In his mind he tried conceive how he could ever be the one to track down the bearded man, remove the spell and avenge his parents. He always thought of himself as nothing, but secretly believed he could, somehow, one day, be meant to do something. It was a truth he held in his stomach: that though he was not special, maybe he could be or should be. He did not know.
People had always told Tim that he was better suited for a life of accounting or as a clerk and not an adventurer (whomever it was); but he thought, maybe he could live an exciting life. He was an unsure person, now in a position to be sure. What he thought he was capable of and what he had to do were unsettling for him.
Tim was never the person to be confident and make decisions, like a squirrel in the middle of the road, looking from side to side as a car comes. He looked at himself on the plane ride to New York, but did not see anything. His deep inner voice said otherwise though. “You are special,” it said. It seemed improbable that Tim would do something he really was not able to do, but that voice whispered, “You can do anything. Don't worry, if it is something unbelievable, bearable or imaginable. You can do it.”
Looking into the glass window and his reflection, Tim, like he was chewing gum, worked over his worry up and down, biting it. He said to his face, “That wizard killed my parents, I have to get him. I have to stop him from killing Ludus and Claire.” His reflection said, “Can you do it?” He answered, “I don't know,” and looked over at Claire's face with streaking lipstick from her sleep drool.
Ludus stood without a word and walked to the pilot’s cabin. Tim wished he was more like Ludus: assertive and straightforward, like a jerk in a bar that orders a drink for a girl and makes her say thank you; not a weak person who minces his words. “That is the kind of man, girls like,” said Tim quietly as he looked at Ludus’ sheik black clothes and styled hair. However, worrying about himself and who he was would not help him. He had to find the bearded man and stop him from carrying out the spell to kill him and his two new friends. He could not see a solution, or even a possibility.
Ludus returned from the cabin and said, “The captain says we will be in New York by early morning. Try to get some rest. Our search begins tomorrow.” Tim nodded and babbled something Ludus didn’t hear. He looked out of the window and saw the sun fade. It sent up one last burst illuminating the clouds. The sky for a moment was lit with large balloons, before joining black. Tim closed his eyes and fell asleep. Clare put her head back on Ludus’ shoulder and he took her hand.
Later, the noise of screeching brakes woke up Tim. He opened his eyes, feeling the plane lurch, to see Ludus standing in the pilot’s cabin shaking his hand. Ludus thanked the pilot and unhooked the latch of the plane’s door. He kicked out the steps and walked down into shadow. When his head was about to pass the exit, he looked back and said, “Are you two coming?” Tim and Clare stood up and wobbled groggily to the door.
The night had passed and the late morning sun burnt the concrete; wind whipped up bellow the plane. Ludus on the runway, stood next to a black car, leaning into the driver’s window. Tim and Clare came up behind as Ludus said, “Okay, this is my dad’s driver. He can take us where ever we need to go in New York. Let’s go.”
He opened the door and slid in. Tim tried to go next but Clare pushed in front of him; he went in last. Ludus said, “Okay, Tim, where are we going.” Tim thought and answered, “I think, we should start where they print those really big flat books. You know the ones that have the small writing on them.”
Ludus did not know what he was talking about, but supported the choice. He told the driver, “Take us to where they print those big, flat books, with what, small writing--small writing.”
“What?” the driver asked.
“You heard me, let’s go. It’s a matter of life and death. We don’t have time to waste.”
Clare flirted, picking at Ludus’ side. She whispered into his ear and giggled. He would from time to time, look at her and smile. She told Ludus that she loved him. The car took them into the heart of New York City, in New York. The three never been there before and thought it was impressive. There were lights, people, objects, and buildings: more than they have ever seen. The three sensed the different styles and types that filled the city. They liked it.
Billboard displayed everything on earth that could be bought or sold and big metal buildings like demon trees spread their leaves up into the sky. The people of all colors and races went about with bags and cases, on bikes and cars, screaming and mumbling. “Look at that,” said Claire, every time she discovered something new.
The car went through the city for a half hour, through congested streets and food smells mixed with waste and sounds of feet, tires, and pipework. The car stopped. “What’s the hold up?” yelled Ludus.
The driver said, “Were here, maybe.”
“Really?” Tim asked.
“Yep, The newspaper. I’m pretty sure this is what you meant.”
“Great, this is probably what we’re looking for,” Ludus figured. “I bet the bearded man is inside.” Ludus patted Tim on the back and rubbed Clare’s hair. She got frustrated and straightened it back. Ludus said, “Thanks, wait here. We’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
Ludus opened the back passenger door and they rolled out and came to the high glass doors of the newspaper building. Tim opened the door with wide eyes and a gasp. The carpets were white and the walls were black; the ceiling had writing on it. Ludus led them up to the front desk and urged Tim on. Tim stumbled and said, “Uh, excuse me, miss, were looking for someone.” The secretary took off her glasses and blew a bubble of gum. She twirled her hair with a pencil and said, “Who?”
“He is uh, a man,” babbled Tim, “with a white beard, and a cane. He had a book in his hand too.” Tim was so nervous he could barely be heard.
The secretary flicked her long nails and said, “This is a newspaper, not a temple.”
“A temple?” questioned Tim, but Ludus spoke up and said, “Were looking for who is in charge. We need to see him.”
“Do you have an appointment; does he know your coming; do you know his name even?”
“Miss, my dad is a pretty successful person, just let me see him.”
“Hold on,” she flicked and picked up the phone. The secretary dialed out and spoke to a man. The man screamed and she hung up the phone. “Go on up,” she said.
“Up where?” Tim asked.
“Take the elevator to the eighth floor.”
Tim thanked her and the three went to the elevator left of her desk. Tim smiled to himself and walked with a straight back. They followed direction and got off on the eighth floor. In front of the elevator was a sign that said “Newspaper”.
“That’s it!” exclaimed Tim, and ran towards the door. Ludus kicked it open and Clare followed him inside. Twenty people yelled and shouted over cubicles asking for dates and time and place, yelling, “Who, what, when, where, and why!” There was a short, bald man with suspenders, yelling into a phone, running around the office. He had a short white beard and swung a cane around. He was not so old. Ludus went up to him first and said, “Excuse me.”
The man looked at him and yelled in the phone. After a moment he said, “Who are you?”
“Were here to see you.”
“Ah! You’re not the ones I wanted to see. Good for nothing secretary. I’m busy. We’ll do your school report some other time just make an appointment for Wednesday: it’s a slow news day, I'll exaggerate something and make time.”
“We need to speak to you now!” yelled Ludus over his phone call.
The man ignored him and Ludus said, “Tim, go on ask him.” Tim walked up to the man and tugged on the cusps of his shirt. He said, “Mister, please mister, we need to speak to you.”
The man wrinkled his forehead and said, “What did you say?”
Tim repeated, “We need to speak to you.”
“Look kid, I’m in the newspaper business, not the standing around all day speaking to children business. So go on and make an appointment downstairs. Then we can speak later in the week.”
“It’s important. It’s a matter of life and death!” yelled Tim.
“Life and death!” yelled the bald man. “Stop the presses! Stop the presses! Do you have a story for me kid?”
Ludus interrupted and said, “Yes, it’s the best story all year.”
“That’s a whole other story then. Come into my office.” The man with suspenders led them past the boxes to his office with a wide window view of the city. It smelled like coffee and leather. The bald man told them to sit down and said, “Okay, pitch it to me.”
Ludus smiled at Clare and Tim and said, “Well, yesterday, us three were sitting on piles of dirt when this man, with a long white beard came walking by. Now get this: in his hand was a book (a good book). After seeing that we figured what any person would: he must have been trying to kill us…like a wizard or something.
“We need to find him, and it only makes sense that he would be where other good books are, or people there would know him and they could tell us where to find him; maybe we could even get a book to use against him. So we got on my dad’s jet and flew to New York because we heard they print books here.”
The bald man was speechless. Ludus looked back at Tim and gave him a thumbs up and winked. The man with suspenders said, “That’s it?” Ludus nodded and the man asked, “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, never better,” checked Ludus, “at least for now until the spell starts to work. We don’t want to take up your time, but we came here looking for the bearded man or a place where there would be good books, or printings of them.”
The editor rubbed the folds on his forehead. “Look, they print books at publishing companies. Sometimes they have their own presses, sometimes they send it to other parts of the world. Are you sure you’re okay? What about you, it looks like you might throw up,” he said and pointed at Tim. The editor looked at Clare's eyes: glossed over, looking at Ludus’ arms. She said, “You have nice arms.”
“What’s going on with her?” the editor asked.
“Eh, don’t worry about her,” said Ludus and tapped Clare’s hand.
Tim shuffled in his chair and spoke up, “We really don’t want to waste your time. Can you help us? Do you know where good books would be, have you seen a wizard?”
The man continued to rub his face and said, “I don’t know if I’m supposed to call someone now and get you help or what--good books? Good books, you could try bookstores for one, or a library.” The man said to himself, “Find a bearded man with a book. I don’t get it.”
Tim asked the bald man, “Libraries, where are they?”
“Everywhere.”
“What about the biggest and best one of all? That is where the bearded man would be.”
“The library of Congress is the biggest and best.”
“Where’s that?” asked Ludus.
“Washington. Okay, I really don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not a psychiatric doctor, so I’ll go back to making newspapers. Goodbye kids.” The bald man caned his way out of his office, tripping along, nearly passing out. Tim, Ludus and Clare smiled. They had gotten their first clue.
The three left his office and went down the elevator. They exited the building, laughing, waving the receptionist and got back into the black car. Ludus was ready to tell the driver to take them back to the airport when Clare said, “Remember that lady said ‘temple’?”
“What are you talking about, Clare?” Ludus snorted.
“When we were talking to the secretary, she said it wasn’t a temple.”
“That’s right,” said Tim, “we should check that out now, while were here. The lady acted like there were a bunch of bearded men with books at the temple.”
“It makes sense. Let’s check it out,” Ludus agreed and told the driver to take them to a temple. The car pulled onto the street. The noise of people and cars filled the city. It had its own smell that seemed to come down from the skyscrapers and float off of the streets and beat around their three heads; yet smells of food and sounds of music and a feeling of being miniscule were separate. It was an overwhelming experience for Tim, Clare, and Ludus.
Neither of the three knew what a temple was, but if it could prove to be another piece to find the location of the bearded man, they thought it worth investigating. The driver pulled up to a rich looking building. “Here you go,” he said and the three went through the same motion, of opening the door, leaving the car, and going into the building. The doors were made of a nice heavy wood. They pushed it open and went in with a salty push of air. The reception area smelled homely and thick and the three went up to another receptionist, sitting at a desk. She wore a sequenced blouse and had done up black hair. This woman wore a great deal of makeup and Clare studied her technique. The room was simple: not to rich looking or posh; not cheap either. No it wasn't tacky or nice.
“How can I help you?” she said.
“We heard that bearded men,” began Tim. “We're looking for a man with a long white beard, a cane and a book. Do you think…you can help us?” Tim spoke with confidence and touched his shoulders.
The big haired secretary pointed to an open door to the right of the reception area without looking up. Tim, Ludus, and Clare could see into the room. There a dozen men were sitting in a circle of chairs; each one of the twelve men had a white beard that hung down to their chest, and sat with an open book across their laps!
“Maybe in there.” the receptionist smiled, lifting up her eyebrows.
“Can you excuse us?” said Ludus, and pulled Tim and Clare to the left of her desk.
“Did you see all of them in there?” he cried, “What are we going to do? I think we need to get out of here this second--it’s some kinda meeting or gathering of killers.”
“You think they’re all wizards?” said Clare.
“I’m not thinking at all, Clare. I just know it.?”
“Wait a minute,” said Tim. “Did you see what they had on their heads, little caps. The man we're looking for didn’t have a cap on. The wizard that killed my parents didn't either. I’m not saying that these men aren’t wizards, but maybe they are on a different side.”
“The good side. Maybe they can help us,” thought Ludus. “Who is going to talk to them?” Ludus pushed Tim and he took the hint.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” said Tim. “I have to be confident and show everyone I'm not just a weak boy that never will do anything.” He walked towards the half opened door and stood in the entrance. Tim took a breath and knocked on the handle. A man inside looked up and said, “What can we do for you little boy?”
“Um…Can I speak to you?” Tim whispered, taking a step back, looking at the ground.
“Yes, yes, come in, come in,” said the man with the longest white beard of the group. “Take a seat next to me, bring that chair over here. Move over, make room for the boy.”
Tim did as he said and sat in the chair after he set it on the right of the man. “Okay, now were comfortable, what can we do for you?”
Tim looked at the twelve men in chairs, with open books, sitting solemnly. Most had on glasses, little caps, and black coats. He became almost too afraid to speak. His legs shook, his arm ticked, and he blinked rapidly. The godly men looked at him curiously and the first bearded man urged him on.
After working up the courage to speak, Tim said, “It’s a long story.”
“Go on young man.”
Tim began, “We--my two friends: Ludus, Clare, and I came to New York looking for a man.”
“All the way to New York, New York to find someone, oh boy!”
“You see, we think he is trying to kill us,” Tim explained.
“Then why do you go after him, are you trying to turn the tables? It’s dangerous why not go to the police, or tell your parents?”
“Oh, I didn't think of that. My parents are dead, the wizard killed the. It seems like the only thing we can do is find him, and make the man take back the spell he put on us. If we don't we'll die. He has magic.”
“I see you have come to the temple for guidance.”
“Yes, Sir, The man we’re searching for had a long white beard, a cane, and he had a book that seemed like the ones you all have. When my friends and I heard that men like him were here, we came and are hoping that you can tell us where he may be, or what is best to do.”
“You think a rabbi, killed your parents and cast a spell on you?”
Tim did not know what a rabbi was, but said yes. The bearded men put their heads together and spoke quietly. After they agreed, most nodded their heads and the first man spoke. He said, “If you can’t go to the police, maybe you should go find some other kind of help.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Tim shrugged
“We can only help you spiritually.”
“That would be even better,” Tim cheered, “if you could teach me some spells from the books you have there.”
The twelve men took Tim’s words with a shaking of their heads and stood up yelling. “What did I say?” Tim cried out.
“You better leave,” the first bearded man said. “Get out of here!” He yelled and threw his hands up to the sky. The man sat and bent their heads down, flipping through their books, uttering prayers. The first man closed the door as Tim skirted out.
“What did they say?” asked Ludus.
“They said I needed to get help,” Tim answered, “from someone else.”
“Are you kidding,” cursed Ludus, “they can’t help? I can’t believe them. I might burst into that room and tell them how I feel.” Ludus went on convincing himself, moving towards to door.
Clare said, “Ludus, stop please I love you. I couldn’t bare to watch you fight all of those killers.”
“Your right Clare, it’s not worth it. Besides, Tim are they connected to the man were looking for?” The three started towards the door.
“Maybe they are related, but I don’t think they know him.”
“Unless the men are covering up for him,” Ludus suspected.
“They acted like I was crazy though. They won’t help us, and didn’t say where the man could be.”
“Let’s leave then,” said Ludus, pulling them by their hands out of the door. “Who comes here for anything, pssh.” They went back into the black car and Ludus snapped at the driver, “Take us back to the airport.”
“Okay boss,” the driver said, starting the engine, and pulling back onto the wild city streets. The car hummed towards the airport and the group wondered where to go from there. The newspaper editor told them that the library of Congress might have an answer, it might add another piece, or be another clue as to where the bearded man with the good book might be; but after Washington, where would they go? The group wondered if they could even accomplish the unreasonable mission ahead, and end the improbable events that took control of their lives.
All kinds of people ran through the streets and each one had a life of their own, and a story to be told of their lives; but the three did not consider them. The car reached the airport and skid with a twisting circle next to Ludus’ dad’s jet. All three thanked the driver and ran out, up the stairs of the plane, each with a single bead of sweat on their noses. The captain waited for them and said, “Hey kids. Where to?” as if it was so simple.
“Washington,” said Ludus.
“Any city in mind?”
“Um…The big one,” said Ludus. “The library would probably be there, right?”
“Yeah, probably,” the captain said. “Okay time to take your seats. I’ll start the plane and get us prepared. We’ll be there shortly.” The captain smiled and closed the cabin door. The plane vibrated and started to slide forward.
From the left row Tim watched as the plane rose above the high buildings of the metropolis and then cut into the clouds. It turned, straightened, leveled and gained speed. Tim took small breaths and as he turned his eyes on Ludus and Clare, he saw them lean in and give each other a soft, innocent kiss. All three grew silent and started to drift off into sleep. The group hoped Washington, could show them the way to the white bearded man. They hoped for many things.
Chapter Four
Tim’s body was covered by a layer of sweat. It soaked his
clothes and put a film on his face as he slept. He was having a
nightmare of course. In his dream, he saw a man and women holding a
basket. They looked so familiar but their faces were blurred. The two
walked up steps towards a door. He could hear the scuffs on the
stone. It was all black in his mind, but the shadows at times grew
and rose allowing him to make out the picture.
Tim’s legs and arms twitched as his dream turned like a pretty girl from behind to an ugly one at front. The man and woman opened the door and a bright flash of light sparked the scene. It was followed by a loud bang and feet falls upon the floor. With each flash and noise, Tim jerked. He watched the ominous events unfold like a table cloth spread out on a table. The man and woman went forward and a man with a white beard stood by the stairs of the house, holding a book. The man with the beard read from it and a light exploded from his mouth. A clap of sound vibrated through the image of the man and women and left them still upon the floor. Tim saw the basket and heard a baby’s voice, crying from it. The man with the white beard began to walk towards it.
The plane jolted up and down and Tim awoke from his dream. He was wet all over and he saw Ludus and Clare awake, startled. The inside of the jet was lit by spikes of lightening, followed by volleys of thunder. The jet had entered into a massive storm.
“Are we going to die!” screamed Clare.
Ludus held onto her and whispered, “Clare, we’re going to be okay. Close your eyes Clare, hold my hand.” They grasped each other tightly and Clare sobbed into Ludus’ chest. Tim was left alone on the left of the plane. The chairs shook, the cabin vibrated and he could hear the panicked voice of the pilot say, “Control, Control!” followed by a loud scream, “I can’t get through!” The pilot punched the cockpit door open and yelled, “Are you all okay? Stay calm, were getting to the edge of the storm. It rolled in so quickly I had no choice but to go through it.”
Clare screamed, and Ludus held her firmly. Tim grasped the arm rests of his seat and closed his eyes. A strike of lighting bolted by the window and showed the violence of the storm. The wind pushed the plane up, down, left and right. Suddenly they heard a hum, die. The storm was silent and for a moment there was only a whistle. “The turbines are failing! They stalled!” screamed the pilot and the plane began to plummet. Ludus and Clare screamed with the pilot and Tim closed his eyes and saw the faces of his dead parents, blurred with that of the white bearded man as his stomach felt the sensation of falling. He thought out loud, “I have to survive this. I have to find the white bearded man and stop him from murdering us. I need to know what happened. I know it was him who killed them.”
“We're falling,” cried the pilot. “Now is the time to pray!”
The storm remembered its anger and threw the plane to the left and right as it fell. Clare and Ludus were quiet, and making peace, feeling as though they would never see light again. Tim however finally accepted what he must do, and for the first time in his life was sure of something. He opened his eyes and watched the plane dive towards the earth.
The pilot never stopped screaming, but mixed in curses, and kicked his foot onto the control panel. He pulled the plane up a few degrees. Tim could see the earth in the window, straight down. The pilot kicked again, pressed buttons and something clicked. There was a fleeting hum, a crack, and a grinding, followed by a steady noise. The captain pulled the controls up and steadied the plane through the shaking currents. Once the plain lied level, they broke the black clouds and emerged into an open sky.
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